- on hiatus - The Manny
by Karlen
Summary: Draco is in a deteriorating marriage with two kids, struggling to be a competent mind healer, father, and to survive in a ruthless aristocratic society. Along comes Harry Potter, manny extraordinare.
1. Morning Sickness

DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are owned by J.K. Rowling, and the plot is based (sometimes quite directly, and at other times quite loosely) off of "The Manny" by Holly Peterson. Do not sue!

This story is also un-beta'd, so any mistakes in grammar or spelling are my own.

**THE MANNY.**

If you want to see rich people act really rich, go to Merlin's School for Boys on any weekday. _Nothing_ makes rich people crazier than being around other rich people who just might possibly be richer than they are. Morning and afternoons are the worst, when it's time for pick up and drop off. This is when parents take the opportunity to show the other parents just how wealthy they are. A wide arrange of house elves, human butlers, and personal chauffeurs were crowded into the foyer waiting for their respective charges to finish their last class.

I had cancelled my last appointment for the day, I was determined nothing was going to keep me away from seeing my youngest today! Limestone towers and magical herbs lined the path where a crowd was gathered, waiting to take their seats in the massive stands around the Quidditch pitch. I cautiously began to weave between a sea of parents: impatient fathers barking into their communication orbs and mothers with their glamorous cloaks and elaborately styled hair, many in the company of their hired help who were taking care of children too young to be in school.

Making my way up the stands, I could hear the tell-tale sounds of 3 and a half inch stilettos clicking behind me.

"Draco! Draco!" called Pansy Parkinson, waving her manicured hand. At least six different elaborately set rings sparkled and shimmered from her fingers as they winked in the light.

I tried to shield my eyes from the glare. "Pansy. Please. I love you but no. I've got to get a seat for Ines's game!"

"I've been trying to reach you!"

I ducked through the crowd, knowing that she would follow. She caught up to me, leaving her driver behind to tend to her two sobbing little girls. She let out a huge breath as if she was out of breath from the twenty or so steps it had taken for her to catch up with me. I smiled at her exasperated, we had grown up together but sometimes I had to remind myself that she had always touched down on actual ground as seldom as possible. "Well then let's hurry and go up front!"

As soon as the clock hit three, the two teams came out and began to practise and warm-up on the field. I quickly scanned the field for my Ines, but didn't see him. I looked up to the opposite stands. The moms and dads of the opposing team, Founders School, were starting to gather in their bleachers. Among them were nannies representing every country in the United Nations, but still, I couldn't see Ines. Finally spotting him on a bench near the dressing rooms, I stood up to give a huge wave. He was still dressed in his uniform, with the first couple buttons of his shirt undone. His cloak was crumpled on the ground beside him. When he saw me, he squinted and looked away – my husband Blaise often wore the same expression when he was angry or feeling pressured.

"Ines! I'm here!"

"You're late, Dad."

"Darling, I'm not late."

"Well, some of the other parents got here before you." He looked away.

I looked at him apologetically and tried my hardest to convey how sorry I was. However, my view of my son was cut off by the bulky form of Coach Diggle. He had his arms in the air, and apparently had been trying to get my attention for a while. "You know what? I'm not gonna force him into it every time. I told him he would miss the game, but I can't make him put the damn uniform on. He's being ridiculous..."

I cut him off. "It's not being ridiculous, okay?" The damn coach could never understand Ines. I motioned for him to lean in further. "We've discussed how Ines gets nervous before a game, he's six years old! It's his first year on a team." The coach gave me a disgruntled stare and took off, while Pansy put her arm around my shoulders in support. I looked up and met Ines's huge blue eyes as he shook his head. He had big blue eyes and delicate features with my white blonde hair that fell in loose curls around his face. As his coach walked by obviously put out, Ines looked at me again and rolled his eyes, dragging his uniform behind him along the dirt.

A half hour later the game was in full swing, but my heart ached as I watched my hesitant son hang back behind the other players. His team-mates had thrown him the quaffle only once so far, mostly because he had his head ducked down and was constantly circling the perimeter of the field well out of throwing range for boys of his age.

"Ines isn't playing very well." I chewed on my lower lip nervously, anxious for my little boy.

Pansy looked at me. "None of them play well. Look at them; they can barely get the ball high enough to reach the hoops." I had to smile.

Ginny Weasley leaned down from her seat behind us. She was wearing a tight, blindingly white cloak with a collar that turned up against gravity and an expensive-looking bird ornament in her hair. She was too tan and looked like she hadn't had a proper meal for months.

"Ohhh, and here's the busy-bee working daddy at a game!" She moved her head to my other shoulder and attempted to start conversation again. "We were talking about how hard it must be for you, never being able to get involved with Ines's activities."  
She was so annoying.

"I like to work."

"You're not doing it for the money. _Obviously_. Blaise's such a heavy-hitting law-wizard these days. And you have your inheritance." I could tell she thought she was whispering, but everybody around us could hear her. "I mean, your salary can't possibly contribute anything that matters on a financial scale."

I rolled my eyes at Pansy and received a sympathetic grin in return. "I actually make a pretty good salary, Ginerva. But, no, I'm not working for money – call it a competitive streak but it's something I just like to do. However, right now I need to concentrate on Ines because he likes to compete too, and I'm sure he would like me watch him play."

"You do that."

Pansy pinched my knee because she hated Ginny Weasley even more than I did. Ginny was always giving me a hard time for working instead of staying home for the children and preaching to me about the way of upper-class living. It was tiresome to listen to, mostly because 1) I had grown up in an extremely privileged household and had already grown up listening to the garbage she spewed off on a regular basis, and 2) because she often had no honest clue of what she spoke of. She had grown up in a poverty-stricken home and married a wealthy man forty years her senior to attain the lifestyle she was living now.

Dylan was chatting to one of the other chasers on his team, thankfully excited by the game. I relaxed a bit and let out a breath. Because it was such a young team, the games were restricted to 1 and a half hours, of which there were only a couple minutes left. Checking the floating scoreboard, it seemed that Founders School team was up by one point. One of their chasers had the quaffle and was zooming towards the hoops. They made a bold move to score again, but the ball bounced off the hoop right at Ines. Amazingly, he caught it, but was obviously stunned. Petrified, we all counted the seconds before the buzzer rang and Ines flew nervously beneath the hoop.  
Oh please, Merlin; scoring this shot would rock his world.  
The shot was clear. He looked at me, and then back at his team-mates rushing towards him, and then back at the basket. He took the ball, grasped it in both arms and shot towards the grass, sobbing. He couldn't do it. The buzzer went off. There was complete silence in the stands, and all eyes on my little mess of a boy.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"We're going to work together to get him through this, Drac," Blaise told me calmly. I knew he thought I was overreacting.

In my moments of honestly, I would tell Pansy that I might leave Blaise at some point down the road. I don't know when this started, all I know is that I had stopped being in love with him after I gave birth to Ines.

"He doesn't want to talk about it. He always talks to me, _always_." I bit my lip and turned away, standing half-dressed at my vanity. I slouched my back.

"Just so you know I know what you're thinking and you're very thin and young for twenty six. And about Ines I really don't blame him for not wanting to re-hash it. Give him a few days. At his age losing is tough. He'll move on. I promise we're going to get him there." He patted my bottom and strutted over to his dressing room. He turned his head to wink at me, full of confidence.

I finished getting dressed and sat in the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet.

"Just look at this!" Blaise exclaimed delightedly, pushing his chest out proudly as his new cloak adorned his broad six foot two frame. He slicked his hair down and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth as he fumbled with the clasp.

"It's nice, Blaise. Beautiful cloth." I went back to my newspaper and in my peripheral vision could see him laying out the nine other cloaks that he had custom ordered out on the bed. Suddenly, a dark cloud covered his face.

"Shit!"

There was obviously a problem with his new cloaks. Blaise was examining the family crest he had embroidered onto the lining of his cloak. I looked over his shoulder and saw that they had used only the traditional Zambini family colours instead of the combined colour palette of the Malfoy and Zambini crests that he ordered. This made him what you might call angry.

He took off his cloak and squinted at it.

Our three-year old Alita walked in rubbing her eyes, and grabbed him around the knee.

"Sweetheart, not now. Father's busy." He grabbed her off the ground and set her in my arms. I leaned against the doorframe biting my lip, holding Ali. My husband, descended from a long line of British aristocracy and law-wizard has little to no patience or the capacity to deal with the little messes of life. He was raised by the help in a large manor house with cooks that served him gourmet food three times a day and doormen that have silently opened his doors. He can win and lose six million galleons in a day and not break a sweat, but god forbid that the tailor mix up the colored stitching on his cloaks.

Most of the people we interact with and that are in our little society were raised much the same way. I had even to some extent experienced what they all had, yet at the same time much differently than the people I had met.

My family is of very old money, and also an aristocratic line. However, my parents passed away when I was fifteen. I was deemed old enough to claim status as an independent, and spent my remaining years of schooling travelling the world, and forming relationships with people outside of my sheltered circle. Having always been curious to explore the different lifestyles of the world, I began studying to be a Mind-Healer. It shattered many of my previous conceptions of people and the world. I'm not ignorant enough to think that I'm so much better than the company we keep, but it had opened my eyes to a lot of the ignorance that my friends and our acquaintances lived in, and how petty we could be at times. Quite like Blaise was being now.

I needed to calm him down before he forgot his manners and began swearing in front of our little Ali. I put her down and called for her elf Tinky to prepare breakfast and take Ali to get ready.

I grabbed Blaise by the hand and pulled him into the dressing room, closing the door. He winked at me as I crossed my arms. He placed his hands on my bottom and pulled me into him, peppering kisses up and down my neck.

"You smell so good, so clean. I love your hair," he whispered. "Sorry about the cloaks. I'm just nervous about meeting the new client, and now you've got me so hot." I slapped his hand. "You're driving me crazy." He tried to unzip my shirt.

"Stop." I laughed, despite myself. "I can't take it. I already have two children, and I'm not ready for a third."

He kissed me again before stepping away, disappointed. "Fine. Let's start again." He opened the door, and motioned for me to go outside.

As we walked into the dining area he picked up Ines and Ali and gave them a huge bear hug, swinging them through the air. Just when I was convinced Blaise was a lost cause, he would do something to make me think that I could possibly still love him. We're constantly drifting apart, he's always impossible, but then he acts responsible and fatherly and i'm always left thinking that I'm going to try to make this marriage work after all.


	2. Everyone Knows That

It was pouring in London at noon the next day.

The maitre d' stuck his long, pointed nose through a crack in the intricately carved doors and pressed a lens of his gold-rimmed spectacles it. Moments later the doors opened to let me in, a simpering expression on his face inclined his head respectfully. "Monsieur!" Francesca the check girl stepping forwards to ease the drenched cloak off my shoulders with an apologetic smile on her face.

I was meeting Daphne Greengrass for lunch at La Pierre Noire, an executive watering hole for the aristocracy with no sign on the awning or public floo address. Pity the poor Londoner who strolls by and mistakenly believes that this is a restaurant operating by normal procedures, one that actually caters to the public. They soon learn they are not welcome, even though many of the tables are free.

Daphne is one of many close friends who seem to have lunch as a living. She's a fantastically fun girl, with a wicked sense of humour and healthy bank account. She's single, and has taken over her family manor house with seven humans on staff, and dozens of elves. Although she isn't exactly in my inner-most circle of friends, she's very close.

"Draco, darling, you look good. _Really good_." She leaned over to give me two air kisses.

"I'm not sure I'm dressed properly…" La Pierre Noire was a relatively new haunt for the wizarding aristocracy, a recent development having only been established for 20 years. The major allure of the restaurant isn't just the lavish decoration, gourmet food, and exclusivity – its major selling point was that it was located in muggle London. I had worn my cloak despite visiting muggle London, because after lunch I would be heading back to St. Mungo's catering to a very magical population. However, I had thought to don some tailored black slacks and a charcoal colored button-down shirt with my favourite Harry Winston cufflinks.

"Stop. You look ravishing."

At that moment, Pansy blasted through the door with her nanny one of her daughters, four-year-old Allegra. I watched as Francesca first swept the shawl off of Pansy's shoulders and then gingerly undid the buttons of Allegra's rain jacket, revealing a heavily embroidered and frilly pink tutu.

Pansy looked beautiful: she had wide brown almond eyes and shiny black long layered hair pulled back by a thin gold headband. Better than anyone, Pansy knew that serious style is all about attitude. She was wearing ratty jeans and a four-thousand pound Chanel jacket; as if she had just grabbed her clothes off the floor. It's not what you're wearing, it's _how_ you wear it; you can't act like you're excited about an expensive new jacket. That kind of behaviour would put any jealous enemies in a gossiping tizzy.

"Draco, so nice to see you. Hello, Daphne." Daphne forced a smile on her face but didn't look up, instead just twisting her straw around in her San Pellegrino.

"Pansy, I still can't believe you had a baby only two months ago. You still have the body of a 20 year old."

Pansy threw her hair over her shoulder. "Well, I know what path to take to get me back to normal!" She threw us a mischievous wink. I rolled my eyes at Daphne, and smiled. Of course. Pansy had fought with her doctors every step of the way until she had finally bribed one into agreeing to perform a surgery, not unlike a muggle C-section. "I told them, I do not push."

Despite Pansy's sometimes outrageous behaviour, I had to admire her for always _always_ getting what she wanted.

As the main courses arrived, I broached the topic that had been on my mind all day.

"I'm worried about Ines. He kind of lost it at that Quidditch game."

"I heard."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Crying instead of scoring a hoop?" Daphne reached out and grabbed my hand. "But I only heard it from Millie. You know her son goes to Founders School."

"Oh, no, do you think all the kids are talking about it?"

"Yes." Pansy cut in, "but it was a very scary moment in the game. Performance anxiety, that's all." She rubbed my shoulder.

"Is he still having sessions with his mind-healer?"

"We stopped. He begged me not to make him go, and it honestly didn't seem to be helping. I don't agree with how Dr. Taylor does things, he made Ines feel like there was something wrong with him. There's nothing wrong with him. He's not some hyper-depressed kid; he still gets enthusiastic about watching me make potions and playing with his puffskein, but there's still something not right."

"And what does darling Blaise have to say about all this?" Daphne adored Blaise; they had gone to primary together and I believe that she still holds a flame for him.

"Who knows?" I shrugged. "He's concerned about Ines, of course. He's just… we just don't have a lot of time to talk these days."

Pansy frowned at me, creating delicate little wrinkles around her mouth. She shook her finger at me. "Are you doing what I told you..?"

I put my hands in the air, like maybe I wasn't.

She slammed her hands on the table. "I've told you this a thousand times, and I'll keep telling you till you do it! Always blow your husband. _Always_ blow your husband. There should be a goddamn rule book with just that in it. _Always blow your husband_." She tapped my hand. "Don't ever forget what I said."

"I wonder if that's what Ginny Weasley does to keep her husband interested." Daphne's features had morphed into one of evil glee. She looked at Pansy curiously. "How often, really, are you doing this now?"

She looked up, attempting to figure it out. "Four times a week."

I whistled. "That's a lot."

"And _I_ initiate, that's the key. The other one is that you have to act really into it, all horny, that's what they love."

"Well even if I wanted to, Blaise is never around. He's gone at least three nights a week and is always at client dinners when he's in town."

There was a collective sigh around the table. "That's a lot for a 6 year old, kids don't sign up for the absent father thing." So true.

Daphne continued, "It's not like you don't try, Draco, and obviously Blaise is busy with work, but no offence, you _are_ the mother of the children and they need a father figure around too."

"I know. But I've been thinking, here I am living this obscenely fortunate life, and, well, maybe I should hire a "guy" for Ines. Some college kid who could pick him up from school and go play some Quidditch or polo or _something_. Does this make me a horrible person who can't deal with his own children?" I anxiously speared a gigantic shrimp with more force than necessary.

"It's not a guy, you idiot. It's a many. M for male nanny. _Everyone_ knows that."

Everyone but me. "Mannies? Are you kidding me?"

Daphne was slowly nodding her head, obviously thinking the idea through. "He can give your son male attention while Blaise is working out in wherever he goes. Cho Diggory's manny takes her four sons to the country club every Tuesday and Thursday to play polo and some muggle sports."

I laughed. Daphne continued, "A manny may be the answer to your prayers. Don't fire the nanny or housekeeper because I can guarantee you he won't do windows or cook dinner. I think this might be the thing to send your adorable pouty Ines over the moon. The manny will be like the older brother you always dreamed of, but with patience that only money can procure."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The receptionist at work appeared in my communication orb. "Demetri Langstaff is here for you."

I was hopeful. "Send him back. Thanks, Brittany."

She snorted. "Real professional thing to be doing in your office," she whispered under her breath with a small smile as her picture faded out.

I didn't care if it was professional or not. Who would notice what I was doing anyway? It wasn't like there was a mad rush to see mind-healers on a regular basis. I was really hoping Demetri was the one; I had already interviewed eight guys with good resumes but they were all wrong. I was looking for someone who wouldn't let Ines manipulate them but still wouldn't let him fade.

Twenty minutes and a failed interview later I dropped my head into my hands in frustration. Hermione Granger, my best friend at work, appeared. When she didn't have a client, she liked to come to my office and annoy me. I ignored her and massaged my temples slowly.

"You're nuts, Draco."

"What?" I snapped.

"Like Blaise's really gonna go for you hiring some kid to be like a surrogate father."

"It'd be good for Ines." I answered, but without any real conviction. I buried my head in my hands again. I was getting desperate.

I looked up through my fingers at Hermione. "I need a man."

"You sure do." Hermione was _not_ a fan of Blaise.

"I'm serious. I need an older, responsible male in the house, at the very least taking Ines to the park. The school fire-called me this morning. Again."

"Stomach-ache?"

"Yeah. Apparently it came on just as his flying class. He goes to the infirmary every single time."

"You have to be tougher. Be tougher on him, and he'll have no place to go but to start coping."

"I am though, but he's sometimes depressed and I just feel… Ines… he just needs to be loved by me and feel safe with me to cry. If I push him he won't come to me anymore. Blaise doesn't connect enough, and I know he's disappointed with Ines for being so complicated."

Hermione grabbed my wrist across the desk, forcing my hands from my face. She was converted, after all, she was Ines's godmother. "You're going to find the right guy. But it's not any of the one's you've met. You know that."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was taking my lunch in the park a block from the hospital, when I happened upon a scene that looked like it was out of _Alice in Wonderland_: a human chess game. The director – a nice-looking guy in casual robes – was ushering each of them into position.

I watched the director. He looked around twenty-six to thirty-two, tall and solid. He walked with his back very straight, with an easy confidence about him. Longish black curly hair framed his square, open face. His green eyes were alert and warm. He was definitely attractive.

As I got closer, I could hear the kids laughing and joking now. Two simpering teenage girls stood nearby, not on the chequerboard, inching closer to him. One of them was patting her chest and the other was batting her eyelashes at Directorman. They were whispering to each other and pushing one another closer and closer to him. This guy, whoever he was, was radiating light and they wanted some of it.

"What's next kids?"

A tiny boy whose clothes had been transfigured to resemble a gigantic horse head raised his hand. "Me, me!"

"Why?"

"I don't know."

The other horse shot up his arm.

"You! Alex, right?"

"I know! Because you want your knights out early to control the centre and attack the other team."

"Yessss!" the director yelled. He reached in his pocket and threw a chocolate frog at the kid. "And do you only want the _knights_ out early?"

Four of the kids screamed, "No!"

"Then who else??"

"Bishops!" shrieked an eager kid. Mr. Director took four colourfully wrapped candies from a bag and threw them through the air at the four children who had answered.

Okay. This guy had my full attention. He was tough without being a prick, and obviously had knowledge of children. Maybe…

I stepped up beside him during a break in the game, when I could get his attention.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure." He turned to me and smiled briefly, but his eyes went back to the children.

"What are you doing?"

"It's a human chess game," He looked at me like that much was obvious. It was. "Excuse me."

He jogged away to a kid and picked him up placing him in an adjacent square. "What are you thinking, dude? Maybe we should stop giving you candy." The others all hooted and laughed.

"So," I began again when he returned, "are you part of a school?"

He looked directly at me. "You really interested?"

"I am."

"It's not a school. It's a summer camp for kids who are squibs or with special situations."

"Serious situations?"

"Some very awful situations. Yes."

"Why chess?"

"Because it's hard, I guess. Makes them feel smart."

"Are you also a teacher?" I was so excited. I knew this was my guy. "Are you working a steady job?"

"I'm not a teacher, no."

Oh shit. I thought he was a professional. Damn it. Maybe not my guy.

"I'm taking a break to figure out some plans."

He waved to the kids. "Ok, you in the white shirt, you're in charge of the whites and _you_," here he pointed to a kid with a goofy smile, "are going to do the blacks. You can argue with their moves, but they get the final say!" When he saw that I was still there, he turned around and looked me in the eye.

"I'm just filling in for a friend. I'm not an expert with kids like him." Just like that, his attention was called back to the kids.

I couldn't help but notice how his summer day cloak traced the lines of his impossibly hard ass. I put down my briefcase full of papers and waited.

One of the kids came over, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, and immediately Mr. Director put one arm around his shoulder and led him over to a park bench. A few minutes passed and I was riveted. Directorman had been gesturing wildly through the air, and the kid was starting to laugh. With short hug, the kid raced back to the board and took his place again.

All right, so he's not some psychopath. He doesn't smell like one, and the kids like him. I had to try again.

"Sorry…"

"You again?" he smiled at me.

"Yes, me again. I have a question. I was just wondering," I asked, "do you have a full-time job?"

"Does it look like I have a full-time job?"

"Do you want a job?"

"Are you hiring?"

"Well, maybe. Do you know what a manny is?"

"A what?"

"Oh, God. I apologize. Let me start over. My name is Draco Zambini." I pulled out my business card and handed it to him. "I work at St. Mungo's. I have two children, and I live just a floo away. Do you work with kids often?"

He kept one eye on the group of kids. "Not really."

He seemed like a guy who wouldn't take any nonsense from Ines and might turn things around. Maybe he had some free hours, obviously if the camp trusted him enough to take over like this…

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's Harry Potter."

I couldn't help it. I just blurted it out. "I'm looking to fill a really good job that is high-paying. Afternoons and evenings."

He gave me an amused look. "OK, so maybe I'm interested in a 'really good job that is high-paying'. What kind of job?"

I took a deep breath, trying to come up with a marketing strategy.

"I have a son. He's six. Lately, he's been… well, he's kind of down. A bit depressed, one might say."

"Clinically depressed?" Now I had his full attention.

"No, no formal diagnosis, but he's just had some panic attacks. He can't perform sports any more because of them."

"I see."

"Look, you have my card. If you wouldn't mind, please owl my receptionist and I can meet with you to tell you more."

"Sure, I'll owl you. Nice to meet you."

As I wandered back to my office, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.


	3. Time to Talk Turkey

"So, thank you for orb-calling me back," I said. I had no idea what to say.

Harry Potter looked at me expectantly. He was sitting in a chair across from my desk at work wearing a dark wash muggle jeans and a white button down shirt. I found his stillness strangely intimidating, but I couldn't figure out why I felt so nervous if _I_ was hiring _him_.

"Thank you for asking."

"So!"

"Yes?"

"Did you get here okay?"

"This is the only wizarding hospital in London. It is pretty easy to find, you know."

"It is. Yes. I…"

"Cool seeing a hospital from somewhere other than a hospital room."

He took in the hundreds of medical journals, books, and my various awards and certificates lining my office shelves, each categorized by topic with huge letters on the spines. Two large pictures decorated my desk, the waving and smiling faces of my two children shining at us from them.

"Yeah, it's pretty messy behind the main area."

"Not in here." Next to me were five reference textbooks piled neatly in a descending row and my quills and ink corrector neatly arranged in wire baskets, inks organized in every colour, and little boxes with drawers for different sizes of parchment in perfect bunches.

"You've worked here a long time?"

"6 Years. Since I started out here. I was twenty."

"What's it like?"

"It's demanding, let's just say that." I didn't want to tell a manny candidate that sometimes the pressure of my work sometimes made me want to break down and cry at times.

Changing the subject, I quickly scanned his resume for the twentieth time. "You're at the Ministry a lot, I guess. I read on your resume that you're developing a new elektonic filing program? Doesn't that take up a lot of time?"

"Electronic. Yes." He smiled at me amused. "The hours are flexible. I'm working on incorporating a modified muggle system for the Ministry, and eventually, most large offices in the Wizarding World, to use. It will, I hope, change the way they communicate between different departments. Some people tell me it may be quite lucrative once it catches on."

I liked this guy. I had no idea if this electik thing was some lofty plan of if it had legs, but he seemed focused and assured underneath his scrappy exterior.

"Well, that certainly sounds like it will be a full-time job. And if that happens, I worry you'll…"

"The filing software isn't a job. It's an idea. And I believe it's going to be big at some point, but, truth is, I'm not there yet."

My orb started glowing. "So sorry, give me a second… Draco Zambini."

I should never have answered the call.

"Oh, thank _Merlin _you're there."

"Who is this?"

"It's me, Meridith." Meridith Hart: one of the great airheads of our time… and the class mother at Alita's nursery school.

"Meredith, I'm in the mid-"

"Sorry, Draco, I just have one really _really_ important question. I mean, on the scale of things, I guess it's not crucial, but it's just on of those things you have to get right."

Glancing awkwardly between the expectant face staring at me from the orb and the obviously bored Harry Potter, I reached awkwardly into the bottom drawer of my desk to retrieve two bottles of water that the elves had stocked it with and handed one to Harry. I'd missed what Meredith was saying, but I figured the world would still turn.

"… I mean, you're a professional mind-healer right? So you should know. I'm sure you're sooo great at organizing. That's why I'm calling you on this."

"Meredith, I really hate to rush you, but it's just not the most convenient…"

"Here's the thing. Do you think I should get the elves to set the long table with medium-sized dessert plates or the larger ones for Grandparent's Day?"

Merlin, please tell me she was kidding.

"I mean, do you think they would want us to serve fruit salad _and_ mini desserts on their plates? Or do you think they'll want all that and some fresh pastries as well? I don't want the plates to look empty even though the elves have put the fruit and desserts on them."

"Meredith. It's not the War of Grindewald. I know you're just trying to pick the best thing, but just trust your instincts and …"

"Are you sure? Because…"

"Positive. I really really have to go now!"

Her face abruptly disappeared from the orb.

I looked over at Harry. "I'm sorry, just some domestic nonsense." Not the smartest thing I could say at an interview with an overqualified guy to fix the problems of my domestic life.

The clock on my wall showed that over a minute had passed in complete silence. He was so still in his chair.

He leaned in closer. The leather on the chair squeaked. "What, exactly, do you have in mind?"

I'd been vague on purpose. I had learned from dealing with some difficult patients that it's best to use vague descriptions to catch their attention, and then hit them with what you really want to tell them once they're a bit more comfortable. I didn't want to lose this guy because I'd given him some half-baked manny overview at the park.

Ok, Draco. Get yourself together. I took a deep breath.

"Well, it's like this. Have a kid, actually two kids, like I told you. Ines is six, and Alita is three. And, well, Inesf's the one I mentioned to you already. "

"I remember."

"He's a little out of sorts these days. His father is gone all the time, and though I work three days here, sometimes I have special patients that take some time during the rest of the week. And sometimes I have to travel. My son needs a male figure to kind of peel him off the floor. That's the one thing I'm sure of. Little boys worship older guys who pay attention to them."

"I know."

"And so, he knows a little chess, he loves to read and draw, but the sports thing is not working and…"

"So you want me to work on the chess with him? You gave me an awfully high figure on the orb. That's a lot of money for just chess."

"It's really like, come in that afternoon, mostly at pick-up time, which is 3 in the afternoon. And work with him."

"Work with him how?"

"Well. He's six. Not, like… _work_."

"Ok, then you mean homework."

"Yes. Definitely. But also much more than that. I mean, he needs someone to play with him." In my head I was thinking, _just make him better, just get him to feel better about himself again_. Suddenly, I felt my eyes begin to sting and quickly picked up his resume to cover my face, horrified.

"I mean, you've completed a secondary program after finishing your tuition at Hogwarts Academy, and you've taught Quidditch. You worked in this drill bits company. Is that a family business?"

At this point in the interview, I learned the following: He had grown up in the suburbs of Surrey, studied for seven years at Hogwarts before joining the workforce, mostly for his uncle in his drill bits operation. He'd gotten his secondary diploma at night school.

When I asked for more details about his "software" I began to see how creative the idea really was. He was so impassioned by it that I honestly got lost halfway through, but I didn't let on. He'd moved to central London because he'd made headway testing his software in smaller offices and stores in Diagon Alley.

I had started to understand why this guy didn't have a more traditional career in place – he was entrepreneurial, a bit of a risk-taker. What did the long-ish wavy hair signify? I couldn't peg him, though I hung on his every word. As he spoke, I studied the masculine cut of his jaw and expressive green eyes. He looked like someone who would take command of any situation, though there wasn't a bureaucratic bone in his body. I felt he was responsible and trustworthy right away, if a little bit of a screw-up on the career front.

Then I told him everything I could think of about Ines, about the Quidditch meltdown, about how he'd pulled back from many of his school friendships, and my fear that things would just continue to get worse.

"What about his father, if you don't mind me asking. Are they close?"

"Sure they are."

"Does his father play chess with him? What do they do together?"

Blaise hadn't sat down on the floor with Ines since he was two years old. "Well, on weekends, we all have lunch together, or sometimes my husband might take him to one of those moving picture things," I flicked my wrist dismissively. "You know, Blaise's a law-wizard, he's gone most of the time. He sees the kids for breakfast and just before bedtime, maybe once or twice a week."

"Do they ever go to the park or play sports together?"

Blaise hated parks and playgrounds. He wasn't one to stroll around and enjoy the nature. "Uh, sure, they've been to the park together. I mean, it's not like a regular thing they do."

"So, you live, like, in a huge estate, and you have a six year old boy, and going outside to play isn't a regular thing?" He smiled. "I mean, I'm not criticizing here, I'm just not getting…"

"No, Ines goes to the park with his friends all the time – or, well, he used to."

"OK, but not with…"

"No. Not with this father. Ever." I wondered if he'd ever come into contact with a major law-wizard before. I tried to imagine the loop going on in his head at that moment – something about spoiled kids and how parents like me and Blaise were messing them up.

I needed a break. "And where are you living, Harry, if that isn't too personal?"

"I share a loft with two guys in the Tooting area in London. You know it?"

"I, I know muggle London, yes."

He grinned. "I can't really see you in muggle London."

I had to grin back. His irreverence charmed me. For the first time during the interview I felt myself relax. "Well, actually, I have a lot of friends who live in muggle London."

He didn't look convinced. Even though there had been major steps towards integration of the wizarding and non-magic society, and aristocrats such as myself were even seen taking the occasional venture into muggle London, usually to a hidden wizarding venue, such as La Petite Noire, seeing an old-money pureblood making friends with muggles – I do really know some people (vaguely) – of their own accord was not commonly heard of.

"So what do your roommates do?"

"One is an artist that's been getting great reviews in some local wizarding and muggle galleries, but he has to bartend because even good paintings don't make a steady career path. The other is a teacher in the primary wizarding school system. He's the one I was subbing for."

I put my serious medi-wizard face on. "OK, let's talk turkey." I took a sip of water. "You're living in a hip London neighbourhood, even I know that. You're personable, smart and well educated, and of course I'm not trying to scare you off… but I need to know how you feel about working in someone's home when your friends are becoming teachers and artists? Would that be…"

"Be what?"

"You're thirty, turning thirty-one. Do you mind taking a job like this?" I crossed my fingers under the desk. "In a household with kids?" I hated saying this out-loud; reminding him he was a guy with a degree on an interview to become a manny for an old-money manor house. But I also didn't want him ditching us after a week when he realized what he'd agreed to. "I mean, not that it isn't, you know, substantive; some consider it a calling to work with kids… have you ever even heard of the term 'manny'?"

"No. but now that you say it, I get it right away." He laughed. "Now I'm remembering. Celestia Warbeck has one."

"Well. I mean, for her, that's a bodyguard guy."

He leaned in closer. The leather on the chair squeaked. "I think the word 'manny' is hilarious."

"So you don't mind it?"

"Honestly, your job sounds good. I can't do a full-time gig right now, and the job would let me work on the software project whenever I'm not needed during the day, with Ines in school. I assume I would go home after he's asleep, right?"

"Yes. Carolina lives in, and we have the elves, so we're covered."

"And the other kid?"

"Sometimes I might need you to pitch in. It's hard in a family with two kids just to focus on one child at a time. The regular nannies and our staff will be there all the time. I'm going to need you in the mornings sometimes too, just for drop-off mostly if I'm travelling or whatever."

"If I'm available, sure. How often do you think that might be?"

"A few times a week."

"That's fine. If I can." I was getting the impression that this guy wasn't meant for the service industry.

"Scout's honour." He put two fingers in the air. "Listen, if all goes according to plan, my project should hit in about twenty to twenty-four months. When that happens, Ines's going to be off and running like new."

I laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

"But I do have one problem," Harry said.

"This is an interview. You're not allowed to have a problem yet."

He smiled. "You told me Ines's dad is gone all the time. You can buy someone's time and attention, but it's not the same as a dad. And for what the job pays, I don't want to disappoint you – or him – form day one. Ines'll figure out right away I'm pinch0hitting for his father. How do you think he'll feel about that?"

I knew Ines would do just that. But I also felt that Ines would have so much fun with this cool guy that he wouldn't focus on it. I hoped.


	4. The Manny makes his Debut

I sat on the edge of Ines's bed, brushing the hair off his forehead. "I have some good news for you." He looked up at me.

"What is it?"

"Guess."

"You're getting an Order of Merlin First Class?"

"No."

"You're going to quit your job?"

"Ines!"

"Well?"

"Ines. I'm with you a lot."

"Are not."

"Sweetheart, you know I need to work, but it's just a few days a week. We have dinner together all the…"

"No, we don't. You're always working."

"Well, I am working a lot right now."

"So fine. Just admit it."

"OK. So I admit I am working a lot with my patients. And I told you that this is one of the most high profile patients I've ever worked with. I just want to do it well. I want to be proud of my work."

He rolled his eyes and turned away from me towards the wall.

"Ines. I love you and being your dad is the most important thing in my life."

He struggled to pull the heavy covers over his head.

"You know what? I'm not going to get into a debate about this. I know how difficult it is to have a daddy that works hard. I know you would prefer that I were here more. But I promise it will get better in just a few weeks' time. But I have news. Something that's going to make you very happy." Intrigued, he now lay on his back, edging closer to me.

I turned out the light with a whispered _nox_ and lay down next to him with my elbow propping up my head. I caressed his forehead with my fingers, our bedtime ritual, and pulled his hair back.

"An orb? My own orb? You said I had to wait till I was…"

"It's nothing like that. It's not a thing. It's a person." I massaged his eyebrows, outlining them down with my thumb and index finger. He closed his eyes, all dreamy, letting his anger go.

"Tell me," he whispered, squinting one eye open at me.

"You're going to make a new friend, someone who is going to be so much fun for you."

He sat up, appalled. "Oh maaan! You said I didn't have to see Healer Taylor any more! I don't want to see another _feelings_ healer. It's so stupid."

"It's nothing like that, Ines."

"Someone at school?"

"Nope, not…"

"At sports? At the…"

"Ines, lie down." I pushed his shoulders down to get him to lie on his back once again. "You're never going to guess, so just let me explain."

"Okay…"

"His name is Harry Potter. You're going to have your own friend in the house all the time! I mean, from after school on till bedtime. He'll be here after school tomorrow."

"Like my own boy babysitter?"

"Better than that. He's about thirty. He's from Surrey. He's an awesome flier, or seeker, I guess. He loves chess, and he's working on making some muggle-wizarding hybrid system for wizarding companies. And he's super cool. I mean, _really_ cool. He has long hair." My son had shifted into neutral. I thought he'd be ecstatic about the kinds of things he and Harry could do together – and relieved that this wasn't another Mind-Healer Taylor. Of course, in retrospect, that was just my own hyped-up fairy-tale version of how Harry would just glide into our lives.

I added, admittedly, with forced enthusiasm, "What matters is he's fun! He's going to pick you up, take you to sports, anywhere you want! Even the muggle sports arenas." Still nothing.

"Honey. You're not excited about going to visit muggle London? How come?" He kept his eyes closed and shrugged his tiny shoulders. This was heartbreaking. I thought this would bring joy to my little boy; instead, it just made him sad. I had waited for this moment to tell him because I wanted him to go to sleep happy. His lip quivered. I tried one more time. "You only get to go to muggle London on special occasions. I'm telling you this guy is going to take you there just on a regular weekday!"

He sat up. Then he touched the orb-light on his bed stand, causing it to light up, and looked at me with those squinty eyes. "Is this all because Father's never home?"

Kids are always smarter than you think.

"Whoa." Harry Potter handed Pixy his coat the next afternoon and she disappeared with a bow and a pop. "The entrance hall is bigger than my house in Surrey." He peeked around the corner to the maze of hallways. I smiled.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. We run a very relaxed house-hold."

I had told him to dress casually, so he showed up for duty wearing some muggle khakis and a cashmere sweater his hair windswept and messy, paired with his summer cloak that Pixy had put away. He brushed his hair back and I gasped.

"Oh, this." He pointed to a scab the size of a tangerine on his forehead. "I fell off my broom last week while I was trying out some new tricks. Stupid, really. And I know it's ugly. Sorry."

I shook my head. "No worries. Ines will think it's cool."

Harry was a bigger guy that I remembered. Two minutes in, it was already strange having a full-grown man with a deep voice inside my house in the middle of the day. And I hired him to be my manny help? And with a secondary diploma? He was so much taller than me. How could I boss him around? Levitate myself and order him to take care of Ines?! I felt panicky.

"Harry, I'm just really excited about you being here."

"You don't look it."

"Really. It's going to be great. Just great!" The early-afternoon light streamed through the yellow silk curtains in the sitting room and reflected off the gold knick-knacks decorating it. I motioned for Harry to sit in the small antique armchair while I sat next to him on the sofa.

"So! Can I interest you in a drink?" Would he ask for a "man" drink, like a Firewhiskey?

"Sure." I nodded my head slowly, reminding myself not to start daydreaming.

"Pumpkin juice, if you have it."

I saw Pixy start to come forward, but I shook my head at her discreetly. I needed time to think. I stood up and went to the mini bar at the back of the room. I got some ice out of the ice machine and started to put it in a crystal highball glass. Wait a minute, was I sending off the wrong signals? He wasn't a guest; he was an employee.

Meanwhile, Harry was considering some of the leaflets I had had the elves permanently spell on the wall of every room in the house. One was labelled CHILDREN'S MEDICINE, and the other was HOUSEHOLD EMERGENCY MEDICINE, AND WHERE TO FIND HOUSEHOLD EMERGENCY SUPPLIES. There was also a parchment with important floo addresses and orb codes, plus the daily schedules, all colour-coded by child and by academic, sports, or cultural activity. I was a little compulsive at times.

I could hear the clock on the mantelpiece while Harry sat, an attentive, polite look on his face. "Why don't I explain to you how things work around here…"

"What things?"

"Well, you know, the house, for instance. How it, well, runs."

"You mean, like a little company?" There was definite amusement in his expression.

"No. These are just schedules." I waved my hand in what I hoped was a casual gesture towards the now embarrassing leaflets.

"Is there an employee handbook?"

"Very funny. No, but we do have employees. They're all wonderful people, but it's going to take a few days for them to get used to you."

"No, it's not. Where are they?" He stood up.

"Wait! Let's just go over a few things, if that's alright. I mean… are you okay? Are you okay being here?"

"Yes. It's been," He paused to check his watch, "almost 15 minutes, and I seem to be doing fine so far." He smiled. "Are you sure _you're_ okay?"

Was I that transparent? I still didn't know how to talk to this man without sounding condescending. I didn't want it to sound like he was _just_ staff. And then I thought how sexist it was that I could more easily boss around women in my house, but not a man.

"Ines goes to Merlin's School for Boys. On Monday's he has sports on Morgana's Island. They take the kids there by portkey, and then bring them home, but sometimes the parents take the kids themselves. You could take him. Do you know how?"

"Apparation?"

"You don't?"

"Could you teach me?"

"Me?"

"Yes." Then he broke into an easy grin. "I'm just kidding. I do know how to apparate." He was still smiling at me.

"You can? Okay, good." I had to start acting normal. This was ridiculous. Then, "I'm sorry." Just for good measure.

"Don't be sorry, It's fine. It's just, I've handled groups of thirty kids on my own, so this is going to be fine."

"That's sooo great!" I sounded like I was praising a three-year old. I could feel my cheeks burning. "On Fridays, he has cello, but not until five. Did you know that it's been proven that kids who took music as children do 40% better in school?"

"Huh?"

"Yes. Something about integrating all the notes in their heads. The address is in the folder. On Wednesdays, it's Latin – which really gives him a jump-start on spell casting and is great for understanding the structure of the spells he's using. Then, on Thursdays and Tuesdays, from three thirty to five thirty, or even six, that's _completely_ fine with me, you two…"

"Whoa." He looked concerned.

"Yeah. Whoa. Let's not even revisit that Latin class idea. But you've got ever day totally planned out?"

"I do." I glanced at him warily.

"May I ask why?"

"Well. I work. We live in England, that's just the way things are." He gave me a disapproving look which I took as overstepping some bounds. But I forged ahead anyways, needing to show him who was in charge. "So, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, you just do what you want. You cold just take him somewhere."

"I have lots of places in mind."

"You do? Like what?" I spoke as if I didn't trust him, as if he was going to take my son to a pixie dust lab.

"You're going to have to trust me. I'm not good at strict hierarchy."

Oh, Merlin. Not only was this guy not going to be a star in the service industry, but he couldn't follow direction? "We're talking about my _son_ here."

"And I'm going to do whatever you want. Just try to trust me a little. Remember, I'm good with kids and I can apparate." He winked.

My orb began to glow. "Harry, just give me a second." It was Hermione. She was catching me up to all the gossip I had missed during my day off from the office.

At this moment, Harry opened the HOUSEHOLD EMERGENCY MEDICINE cupboard and pulled out three huge bags: a lifetime's supply of Pepper-up Potion, Skele-gro, and Calming Potion. He began reading the charmed-impervious parchment I had put for the staff I had put inside about what to do in case of chemical air pollution, muggle bomb explosions, or earthquakes.

Making vague sounds of agreement to Hermione while silently melting with embarrassment, I covertly spelled shut the second cupboard by Harry. It was filled with potions for allergic reactions, cheering potions, emergency portkeys to St. Mungo's… all for play date guests, not my kids. I could see Harry thinking I was completely neurotic. Not that I wasn't. I winked at Harry to let him know that this call was going to take a few moments. He moved towards the windowsill looking down on the grounds, then headed towards the other end of the sitting room, which opened up with pocket doors into Blaise's study. He pulled out _How to Raise Children in an Affluent Environment_ from one of the bookshelves, a book Blaise had read while I was pregnant with Ines. I was horrified, but he was all the way across the room, and an _accio_ would just look desperate.

I looked down at the orb, and stifled the urge to groan at Hermione, who was still cheerfully chatting away. "…And then Creevey said that even though he was gone for a month it doesn't excuse what Millicent did, which is obviously a lie!..." She would surely survive if I checked up on Harry again.

Harry was now riffling through the HOUSEHOLD EMERGENCY SUPPLIES cupboard. Out came a Ministry of Magic Security pamphlet, which he glanced at and then threw back in. Next, he pulled out packages of Bubble-Head Charm Chews, followed by their muggle counterpart in the form of Israeli gas masks. He put on the gas mask.

The floo roared to life. It was only two o'clock, and I knew exactly where each member of the staff was, and no one usually came through the fireplace unannounced. I stretched my head around to the front hall while Mione began explaining exactly which position Creevey had walked in on after his vacation.

Blaise's expensive robe flew across the entrance hall. Shit. Just after lunch and Blaise is home? I knew he wasn't travelling and he had never once come home like this in the middle of the day without orbing or owlling. He walked into the living room with a man I'd never seen before only to find Harry with a gas mask on.

"Draco, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

Harry pulled the gas mask off. He politely stretched his hand out to Blaise.

"No, no!" I screamed at him.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and gave me a 'What the fuck, lady? I'm just introducing myself!' look.

From my orb: "You don't think what she did is horrible? I'm shocked, Draco."

Blaise stared at me, shook his head, and walked down the hall with his guest. Then the doors of his study closed behind him.

"No. I mean not you, Hermione. I do. I sympathize with her, really. I was just…" I waved my hand for Harry to closer to me. "Blaise just came home. Call you back?"

"Ooooooh. Sure, sure. We'll talk at work. See you later, hon. Goodbye!"

I put away the orb and breathed out deeply.

"I'm sorry," Harry began, "I was just trying to be courteous…"

"No. I'm the one who has to apologize. It's just this big story again, and I wanted to introduce you to my husband in calmer circumstances." I stood up. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I just need to check up on him. Excuse me." I tiptoed across the sitting room and knocked on the door, as I head a lamp smash to the floor. The doors slid open a crack and my husband's face peered out through the crack he had opened.

"Yes?"

"Blaise, why are you being so weird? It's two o'clock on a weekday and you didn't let me know you would be coming in early…"

"Why are _you_ being so weird? What's the deal with the guy trying on the gas mask?"

"I'll explain later."

"Are we done now? Honey, I'm really stressed out. Would it be possible to be left alone from now on? Actually, two firewhiskeys would be great. With limes. On the sides of the glass. Don't drench them with whiskey."

"How long will the two of you be?"

"All day. Don't bother telling the kids I'm here of they'll just interrupt me." Phew. So I have some time to introduce Harry to Ines, and let them spend some time together. He pulled his nose back in and slammed the doors. I stared in shock as the locks clicked shut inside of the doors, then turned back to Harry and sat down. I cleared my throat.

"Back to Ines. He's extremely intelligent. He's also a smart-ass. He likes to say things to throw you off, and he _hates_ to give in.

"Me too."

"And that Quidditch game really upset him."

"You keep going back to that."

"The game was a big deal."

"To you or to him?" I tried to act cool. His forthright style charmed and unnerved me all at once. "He doesn't like to be pushed into things until he's ready."

"Do you push him?"

"His father does."

"You let him?"

Wow, this guy was serious. I was thrown, but impressed by his willingness to get to the heart of the matter. "It's a self-esteem thing with this father. Frankly, Blaise pushes him, but then he isn't around to follow up. He loves his son, he just works very, very hard."

"Could I talk to Mr Zambini? Get a sense of Ines from his point of view."

My mind raced through the pros and cons of telling Harry that my husband had no idea that I had hired him. "That's not going to work."

He understood. "He doesn't know about me, does he?"

I tried not to grin. "Well… he just needs to be eased into this. He's, um, well, open to the concept." Maybe. "Look, I know I'm handling this right. Once Ines starts making progress, Blaise will be all over you. He's into results."

"Gotcha."


	5. Rotton Eggs

The next afternoon Harry arrived early and we found ourselves in the breakfast room. I told him, "So Ines and I had a long talk last night and he got really angry."

"I think I would have done the same thing at his age. Growing up I had a tough, demanding uncle who wasn't around. Controlling aunt."

"I don't think I'm controlling. I'm trying to _help_ him." Was I supposed to be insulted? Bah. I wish I was brilliant enough to come up with some milder – and hopefully legal – version of _imperius_ or something to make him bend to my every whim because I was _paying him_ goddamn it! Unfortunately, I never did have much talent with spell-crafting.

"I predicted it. I knew he'd think I was replacing ol' Dad and wouldn't like it at all. I told you."

Were all mannies this tiresome? Was I smoking something or had he been the victim of a covert _confundus_ in the park? He even understood that I hadn't told Blaise, which I took as a sign of his high emotional intelligence. But emotionally intelligent people can be annoying know-it-alls.

"This is going to take some time. I want you to understand that even if you don't see us playing out on the grounds everyday for the first bit, I am, in my own way, working to get there." That was the first appropriate comment Harry had uttered since he'd been in the manor.

Just as he promised, Harry didn't pressure Ines. For the first week, he just came to the manor, read the paper in the sitting room, and then went into the playroom to work on his filing program. Amazingly Ines would wander in and play exploding snap on the floor. Harry would utter a handful of words at most, but basically he ignored him. And my beautiful, stubborn Ines refused to engage him.

From the start of the second week, Harry began to interact with Alita. She was her light-hearted, cheerful self and warmed to him straight away. She'd spend time on his lap, absorbing the muggle inventions and trinkets that he was apparently using with rapt interest. After, she'd insist he go back to her rooms so that she could proudly show off her princess robes while Ines pretended exasperation. A full week of tea parties and enchanted-to-speak toys would drive anyone crazy, but Harry plowed on with a smile on his face. The whole time, Ines would be studying Harry warily, calculating his every move.

Finally, on the Monday of the third week, as Harry recounted to me, he turned to Ines, who was lying on his stomach balanced rather haphazardly along his beginners broomstick, hovering in gentle circles above the ground, and asked him a direct question: "Mate, I'm bored. I can't stand another minute of _The Veela Queen and her Amazing Singing Woodland Elves. _Want to go outside and toss a quaffle around?"

"No thanks."

"Okay. No problem."

Then, Harry turned his attentions to adorable Ali, swinging her around the room as she yelped in delight, and stomping around the room with her balanced on his shoulders – all in view of Ines. When he finally put her down and collapsed onto the ground, Ali grabbed onto Harry's knees and wailed "I called Harry first! I called Harry first!"

Ines put his hands on his ears. "Aliiiii, enough! Be quiet. I have homework. And Harry was working on his muggle thing! We're working in here!" Ines told her sternly. "He can't play with you right now." He put his hand on her shoulders and gently steered her out of the room.

Harry closed the door after her. "Thanks for saving me. Hey, want me to show you a chess move that'll kick your opponent's ass every time?"

"Sure. I guess."

It made me fly over the moon when Ines would subtly let on that he liked having Harry around; at night, he'd want to make sure that Harry was picking him up, and he'd stopped yelling at the staff because Harry told him it wasn't cool. I loved how engaged Harry was and how quickly he'd understood my son. Watching them interact and play together made me feel safe, as if I could just let go once in a while and trust someone to be there for my kids.

Once we were feeling pretty secure together, he began to tease me all the time – which I not-so-secretly adored. For instance, I would make a sincere suggestion like, "Ines doesn't have anything on Tuesday. Why don't you guys go to that new activities store that just opened? You can customize your own puffskein!"

And Harry would look at me with amusement all over his face. "Customize a puffskein? You think that's cool?"

"Well, I … he used to play with puffskeins."

"That would be because he was probably still potty training."

"And I assume you think I'm not up to date on cool toys for my son?"

"I would never," he said sarcastically.

"You better not." I liked this guy and told myself it was because I knew he was curing my son. End of story. Of _course_ it didn't have to do with how easily he smiled at me when I walked into a room. Or how happy he made me. Or how much fun we had just talking and laughing even when the kids weren't around. It especially didn't have to do with how fit his arse looked in muggle denims.

One afternoon during Harry's fourth week with us, he and Ines were playing wizard's chess at the dining table while our house elf, Curly, served dinner. Without warning, Blaise appeared. His robes were crumpled and hanging slightly off one shoulder, and he looked dazed and dejected. He walked right past all of us straight to his chair.

"Honey, did you catch an early portkey?"

Harry silently left the dining room, and I closed my eyes briefly thanking Salazar that he was so perceptive.

"Nope. Meeting cancelled." He said abruptly. He snapped his fingers at one of our non-elf staff, who was trying her best to blend into the walls. "Carolina, make me a ham sandwich with mustard on one side and mayonnaise on the other. I'll take it in my study. Make sure to prepare an iced tea, with a fresh lemon, sliced, on the side." He turned his head to me, now. "Then I have to get back to the office."

Normally, the kids would be yelling at each other or competing over who got first pick of the food arranged artfully on platters in the middle of the table. But they seemed to sense their father was feeling testy, and wisely remained in their seats, sipping demurely at their drinks.

Ali wrinkled her nose at her father's robes. "Daddy, why do you look so messy?"

Blaise laughed, and gestured for the children to come to his chair. They both looked to me, and when I nodded, headed for their father's chair. He pulled them easily onto his lap, one on each side. "I'm tired and messy because I'm working so hard." He put his arms around Ali and Ines and held them close. "To be honest, I really just came home because I wanted to sit with you at dinner!" Then, he maneuvered himself to pull his organizer from within his robes, and began skimming through it over their heads.

Carolina had come back to the dining room, and quietly let me know that Harry was in the playroom.

Ines squirmed off his father's lap and bounded over to his chess set.

"Will you play chess with me after dinner?" asked Ines. "I got some new moves."

"Maybe, I need to check a few things…" And Blaise grabbed his organizer again and began jotting notes down. It made me sad that he couldn't, or wouldn't, focus on the kids more.

Blaise hadn't always been distracted with work or having fits over his robes, but it would be an outright lie to say that there hadn't been any indicators that should have been warning signs when I first met him.

We met in a magical community in Japan. I was twenty-two and winding down my whirlwind travelling around the globe. Blaise had been there as one of the lawyers representing a huge business conglomerate in for a high-profile case. We had heard of each other before; one of the inevitabilities of belonging to the dwindling population of aristocracy, but we had never interacted beyond the odd "Hello."

A mutual friend was throwing a cocktail party in the hot Japanese summer: outside, underneath blooming cherry trees, lit up with the pixies inhabiting them. Blaise had blasted into the party an hour and a half late. All of his fellow lawyers were there and had pulled me into some legal discussion I couldn't make heads or tails of, when Blaise approached us. He didn't excuse himself, didn't ask permission to interrupt, he just boldly stated, "You guys have got it all wrong. I was up all night fixing reports and I want all of you to listen carefully." He went on to explain how they had screwed up their analysis, despite the fact that their boss had been guiding them on their current trajectory.

This of course, attracted the attention of his boss, who hurried over. Blaise just looked at his boss and said, "This is how we're going to work from here on in…"

He spent at least five more minutes telling them how to do their jobs.

Then, he turned to me. "I can't help but to notice you. You're too beautiful to be allowed to stand around listening to this stuff. Come dance with me." And so we did.

His alpha dog performance captivated me. I wasn't experienced enough to recognize the negative implications of his behaviour. All I could do was study his dark hair that fell a touch over his ears and the back of his collar. His robes were so finely tailored, his cuffs so neatly positioned. Successful lawyers never had long hair – this guy wasn't bending for anyone.

Four months later, I was lying half-off the edge of his leather couch, with my head propped up by his muscled arm. We had been kissing for at least an hour. Blaise loved to kiss.

He got up to pour us some glasses of elf-made wine, when he sat down suddenly. "Here's what I think: I think you should seriously consider practicing as a mind-healer."

"I'm taking those courses just to expand my horizons. You know that. Besides, those jobs are impossible to get. You can't just decide you want to become a healer just like that."

"Yes. _You_ can. You're going to be qualified soon. You'd be great at it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You have to do three years of grunt-work before you can even think of having your own office, let alone someplace like St. Mungo's."

"Okay," he paused, "that's definitely not going to work. Why don't you go get a job as a researcher for my uncle, he's got some sway over at St. Mungo's. Plus you've got a healer background now, they'll eat you up." He threw one knee over my stomach. "You're going to do this. I'm going to be there every step of the way."

"You are?"

"Trust me."

And I did. That's the paradox of Blaise. He's a spoiled baby who throws tantrums over the slightest non-issue, but, when you need something done, there's no one better to have standing next to you. That's why I was still with him after so long. He could always close the deal. I despised his obsession with money; he seemed unable to grasp how lucky we were, by my inheritance alone, we easily had enough to both live lives of leisure, and for the next twelve generations of our offspring to do the same. All while upholding our current standard of living. Add to that the sizable Zambini family net worth. Instead, it made him believe that he deserved to have more, that he should be richer.

However, there were our two beautiful children to factor into the equation. He tried hard to be a good father, I could tell. He still loved me. So I forced myself to try to make it work.

"Ines, who was that guy sitting at the table earlier?" Blaise hadn't connected Harry with the man in the gas mask from a few weeks earlier.

"That's Harry," answered Ines. "He's kind of a coach."

Blaise looked at me suspiciously. "Why was the coach having dinner with the kids tonight?"

"Sweetheart, Harry's just going to be helping out a bit." I leaned against the edge of the table, trying to act like this was nothing special. "You know, the kids can play a little before dinner."

"Well. Ines, do you have fun?" Blaise asked, a slight edge to his voice.

Ines sensed immediately that something about the manny was irking his father. Then he turned it to his advantage in less than a second. "Sure. Why not? He's _always _there, and he's real good at math."

Stab your father then turn the knife.

Blaise leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes with his palms. "Draco, I'm curious as to why we've added a male coach to the payroll?"

"How come you keep coming home early?"

"Draco, who's the coach guy."

"He's somebody I've met to help with the kids."

Blaise slammed his hands against the table and stood up, his chair barely managing not to tip over. "You think I'm made of money?"

"You should be very proud of what you make, of your job, and we've been blessed with plenty."

"It's not so much."

I was so disgusted with this man. "Yes. It is. Quite a lot."

"We don't even have a Pegasus."

"You poor boy."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I _am_ poor." He loosened the collar of his robes. "Listen. I don't mean poor opposed to everyone out there. I'm talking here." He gestured around his lavishly appointed office. "In my life. In my reality. Okay?"

He began pacing around the room. "Thirty thousand galleons on two tuitions, two hundred and eighty thousand a year on maintaining this place," he was gesturing around the manor wildly, "another hundred thousand on our human staff that you keep fucking insisting on, and now you want to add someone to the payroll." He was looking at me incredulously. The kids were staring at their father worriedly. Then, he left the dining room and went to our bedroom.

I found him in the dressing room polishing his cuff links. "You know money's not the problem, Blaise. I've hired and fired plenty of people without ever asking you."

"Are you implying this is my problem, then?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. Look, it's just something we're trying out for a while."

"No. Really. I want to know. What _is_ my problem, or, better said, what are you getting at? Really, I'm curious. Very curious as to what _my _problem is."

"I just don't think you like the fact that he's a man in your house when you're not here. Because he's a guy playing with your kids when you can't, or _won't_. It makes you feel less guilty if it's a woman. You're not being displaced that way."

He put one hand on his hips, and pointed the other at my face. "I don't want a rent-a-dad in this household. We don't need it. I won't have it." He exhaled loudly. "The children just need time to adjust. Everything just needs more time." He walked towards the windows. "My office shade's are stuck covering half of my view. How long has it been? They won't respond to magic. How many times do I have to ask you to get the elves to replace these?"

"Let's stick to one topic please, Blaise. This isn't about you. It's about Ines's confidence. I'll pay for Harry."

"I don't give a SHIT what you pay for! He's not receiving payment from anyone."

No way could I get rid of my "coach problem". I cared way too much what he thought of me, how he was one of the few who understood my humor and laughed at my jokes, and even what I wore when he came to work with Ines.

Blaise had moved on. He was thumbing through his organizer again and didn't even look up when I left the room.


	6. Exposed!

Luna was one of those people who could roll out of bed, belt a scarf as a dress, and look like the pinnacle of boho-chic. Her style flowed as naturally her heartbeat.

We were at her loft across the hall from her studio. There were priceless antiques strewn carelessly throughout the room with odd-looking lamps and tables around the place. Dark, high-gloss wood floors stretched the length of the room, and her floor-to-ceiling windows framed a gorgeous view of the city.

She'd brought me over for the sole purpose of unveiling to her best friend the new pathways her art was taking. We were always joking about our opposing sensibilities: she was creative, loose, and had ostracized herself from high society. Then there was me, rigid and too comfortable with the crowd I had grown up with to branch out so dramatically. She was always telling me that I didn't take enough time to ponder the effect of wrackspurts on the cosmos.

"How's Blaise?" Luna couldn't stomach Blaise. That's why she never came over to the manor - or why we never went out on double dates.

"I wish you'd give Blaise another chance, Luna," I said. "He's good at business and you might find yourself bonding over financial planning… or something."

A single raised eyebrow was all she needed to say about that idea.

"So how's Blaise dealing with Mr Manny Extraordinaire?" Luna asked.

"Blaise thinks I fired him."

"What?" Luna almost spewed her drink on the table. "It's November, which means Harry's been with you, what, two months now?"

I looked anywhere but at her shocked expression. I was almost desperate enough to try to interpret Luna's bewildering artwork. "So what?"

"So you're hiding a manny from your husband?" Luna was fascinated. "How have you managed that?"

"Blaise travels a lot. I just haven't had the energy to deal with the conversation. That's all."

Luna put her head in her hands.

"With your husband or Harry? This is really healthy," scoffed Luna. "Even I would be careful in this situation, Draco."

"My husband! I can't fire Harry."

"So, you're choosing Harry over your husband."

"That's ridiculous. Harry _works_ for me."

"You're choosing your manny over your husband. Does that mean you're finally going to leave Blaise?" Luna, raising her head, went right for the jugular. "First, it was three years ago, then last year, what about this one?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I fiddled with the hem of my robes. "Once Blaise sees how much Harry's helped Ines, and stops being threatened – he'll be glad Harry's there."

Luna was appalled. "It's weird. Really weird, Draco. Your manny's well-educated, and he's basically working as household staff." She gave me a snotty look. _There's_ the girl who's set to inherit the Lovegood fortune. "The guy sounds fantastic. No question. But isn't he a fuck-up if he's turning thirty-one and wants to be a manny?"

"I don't think so. I told you, he's developing some genius organizing system for the Ministry of Magic. When he explains it to me, I can't understand a word he's saying. He's smart, Luna. In the meantime, he needs a job he doesn't have to worry about, and he loves kids. He loves _my_ kids."

"Is he a paedophile?"

"I already told you Hermione did a background check! He's not." I was staring to get annoyed that I had to justify this decision so much. "Ines is less sarcastic, less withdrawn. He's starting to feel some joy. He's even been playing Quidditch again – I couldn't figure out how to help him, and Harry's fixed all of it."

I felt the tug of a smile, and didn't fight it. "He respects me, but we still talk like equals." I thought about the other morning: the kids were getting ready and I had asked Harry to come and take them to school. When I heard Harry's voice in the kitchen, I quickly changed out of my silk pyjama bottoms and into tight-fitting denims. And I got the reaction I was looking for: when I walked in, he immediately looked me up and down before he caught himself. I fought the blush that was rising to my cheeks at the memory.

"So you guys are friends? Why are you smiling?"

"I'm not."

"Oh please." Luna laughed. "What am I picking up here? Handsome, fun, intelligent guy in the house all day. Husband gone. Can't imagine."

"You're right. He's smart. He's funny. He's gorgeous. He makes me laugh. He's helping me with my son. But there are no boundaries broken. I'm just getting to know a new friend, and I trust him."

"Trust him how much? Respect his judgement more than your husband's, for example? I just think this Harry thing is indicative of…"

"A bad marriage. I know. But we have kids."

"Obviously."

"I'm just trying to figure out if two parents who are civil, but not in love, are better than separation."

"Blaise is still in love with you." Luna had softened her voice. "It's more than just civil."

"I know. But not like he was."

"I'm not going to push you, Draco. The bigger issue is why Harry seems to be sharing your life, and Blaise isn't. Just make sure you're looking at everything objectively before you make any decisions. You've also got to tell Blaise that Harry's in his house, spending time with his children. Or you've got to fire Harry, like you told Blaise you would."

"I haven't got that part figured out yet."

I felt the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins and let out a laugh of pure joy. I leaned forward on my broom and pushed myself as fast as I could possibly go. The sense of freedom was too exciting to do anything else. Harry was right behind me, an easy grin on his face as he watched my childish excitement. We were headed to one of our holiday villas, to pick up some winter clothing and equipment for the children, and some boxes of files for Blaise.

Every building in the city seemed to catch the sun and the glittering city was one of my imagination. For once, I allowed myself to live in the present and just feel happy, like my mother always wanted. A huge cloud bore down on us and I manoeuvred the broom around it with a showy flip. That may or may not have been because I wanted Harry to see that I could handle a broom. I wanted Harry to notice everything about me these days.

"You fly really well."

"Word."

Harry cracked up and had to slow down to wipe his eyes.

"_Word?"_

"Yeah. Ines taught me that."

"Do you even know what it means?' He said it like I was some crazy banshee.

"As a matter of face, I do. It kind of like, 'Right on!'"

He burst out laughing. "Right on is just not an expression I've heard lately. I think it went out of use when I was ten."

I hit his shoulder with my hand. He smiled at me and suddenly I noticed that when he smiled he had a slight dimple in his left cheek. I'd never been completely alone with him like this – no kids, no orb – and I was really enjoying it. Just the two of us suspended together in the middle of the sky. The other day, when Harry offered to come with me to get all this stuff, Carolina had given me a _look_ over Ali's head. She was right to raise an eyebrow. So was Blaise. And Luna. And Hermione.

Ok, Draco. Get a grip.

"If you weren't doing me a favour I'd leave you right here, at, uh, Beconsfield?" I strained to identify where exactly we were flying over. Harry just leaned over and tousled my hair.

We flew in a comfortable silence, or at least Harry seemed to. I couldn't seem to ignore the heady tension caused by his physical presence. It was worse than the first day he'd come to the manor.

"You're good with organizing things, right?" I started, lamely.

"Uh, maybe. Shoot."

"Do you know if there's some sort of program to organize the kid's week so that it syncs with my schedule but can also be completely separate?" I was talking a mile a minute. "If you could separate it, then we could print simple schedules for the kids, without all of my appointments on it." I kept turning towards him to make sure he understood.

"Hey, I get it! Just watch where you're going and the magic carpet on your right, please."

"But then I would have all of the kid's schedules and mine on one sheet. My appointments could be in red and the kid's in blue. Could you do that?" Him and me, Going to the country together. Alone. Me wanting him to like me. I took a deep breath.

"Can I tell you something?" Harry cut off my inner monologue, thank goodness.

"Sure." I braced myself.

"You're whacked, Draco."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah. You are." He gave me a small grin before putting on a burst of speed, and then looking at me over his shoulder, a playful challenge in his eyes. I huffed, and then let a smile steal across my face once again, before giving chase.

An hour later we landed lightly before the gigantic wrought-iron gates of our Spanish-styled villa. Huge willow trees and untidy rose bushes surrounded the property, just a five-minute walk to the beach.

We came to this house every summer. Despite the best efforts of myself and the staff, we were never able to get rid of all the sand, and it crunched lightly under our feet as we walked in.

"I can't picture your husband here." I noticed that Harry had never, not once, said 'Blaise'. He was opening random doors, looking for the storage closet.

"Why do you say that?"

"It seems too, um, _basic_, I guess. For him."

"You're not exactly wrong. Blaise's always cranky here because nothing works the way he wants."

"I thought so," was all Harry said as he gave me with a shuttered look. And then headed for the basement.

A while later, we'd found and shrunk all of the kid's skis, sleds, clothes, and Blaise's files. They were all stored securely in the bottomless pouch I'd brought along.

I looked out at the house again, not knowing when we'd be out again. It was a lovely house, and closing the doors felt sad. I wondered if I'd ever be here creating happy memories again – which was rather dramatic as we hadn't really had fun family time since Ines was three. Still. I liked to entertain the fantasy of being a happy father in a thriving marriage with his young children running around the grounds.

"It's a gorgeous day." Harry turned to me excitedly. "We're going to the beach. You need it."

"It's too cold to walk to the beach," I said half-heartedly.

"It isn't that cold. There's no wind. You're going to be okay. You need it. And I'd love it."

"But we can't. We have school pick-up."

"Yes, we can." Harry pulled my orb from his pocket, ignoring my astonishment that he somehow had my orb, and had called Carolina. I tried to grab it from him, but he pulled away and brandished his broom at me, playfully.

I lunged at him again. "Give me my orb!" I whispered.

"It's Harry. Look, we've got a lot of stuff to deal with here… Yeah, no way we're going to make it back in time to get Ines from school, could you get him for me? … Great… Before dinner. I think." And then he closed communication, winking at me. He walked over to me, not stopping until he was close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. "This is a good idea, Draco. Trust me." Then he dropped the orb into my pocket and started walking down the dune.

We passed by a guy sitting out on a café patio who waved and gave me a wink. I thought, does that guy know me? Even if he doesn't, he'll think we're a couple. If I run into anyone they're going to think I'm having an affair. Alderly Edge is such a small community. I can't walk on this beach. But Harry will think I'm some prudish loser if I can't even enjoy the beach for a couple minutes. Plus, I had to admit, the beach really was beautiful. The summer crowds had all gone, and the waves rolled lazily against the sand.

This was ridiculous. What was I feeling guilty about? We'd take a short walk and then head back. No big deal. Harry was already at the water's edge, his folded behind his head. He looked fantastic. As my mother always told me, there's no harm in window-shopping. It's the buying that's the problem.

"Not so bad, huh?" He waved his hand out at the ocean, and tilted his head back to breath in the salty smell.

"It's awful." I smiled. We started walking along the shoreline. The majestic summer mansions were visible behind the sandy dunes.

"Amazing houses." Harry was beside me again. I took a step back.

"They're beautiful," I agreed. "What's really amazing is that all of them are second houses."

"Hey expert, what do you think that one's worth, the biggie down there?" Harry pointed to a house built in three separate sections that looked to hold at least forty rooms.

"I know that one, actually. It's the Parkinson's house. They bought it for thirty-five million galleons. Blaise worked on it."

Harry looked at me, questioningly.

"No. No, he just earned his usual fee, and believe me, he was unhappy about it."

"Oh, I do." And he said that like he was restraining himself from saying more. I tried to move the conversation to a different topic.

"One thing: you told your former employer that he's a passive aggressive bastard, and now you tell me I'm whacked. Is there a pattern here?"

"You're nothing like him." He looked really good. "I'm not trying to criticize you. Well, maybe just a bit. But really, you need to ease up on Ines's scheduling a little bit."

I couldn't look at his face, and was taken aback at how hurt I felt. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean, it's not the worst thing in the world if Ines isn't always on time or doesn't go to some birthday party."

"But he loves parties."

"I'm sorry, but he doesn't." Harry went on, boldly. "He doesn't like crowds, which is why he doesn't want to get back on the Quidditch team. He can't handle all the crowds, the noise. It unnerves him. That day, that last Quidditch match he played, he wasn't worried about the score, or his ability. It was just too many people around."

"He said this?"

"Yes. He did."

I didn't like that Ines was opening up to Harry more than me, but I tried to cover it up. I folded my arms across my chest. "Well, I'm glad. Ines only really opens up to me at bedtime, when he feels safe in the dark."

"It wouldn't hurt for you to ease up on your schedule, too"

"You don't know anything about being a working parent with two kids. You don't know a lot about me."

"I dare you."

"Look, we're not talking about me. We're talking about Ines." I was irked at the challenge. A part of me wanted to take him up on it, while the other, saner, part of me was a little indignant at his audacity. "Tell me what else you think. Not that I could stop you." I was still smarting.

"Good to hear." He was really getting worked up. I was regretting this already. "You're running your house like a business. Each kid already has their own colour-coded schedules, and they're three and six! Every staff person has a daily schedule, and nobody ever strays from the plan. Ever. It's too much…" His voice trailed off.

I followed his eyes to a young couple curled around each other on the sand. They were really going at it.

I cleared my throat at their passionate sexual display and walked faster.

"It's a busy city. Kids thrive on order."

"To a degree. Sometimes Ines needs to relax. Let him get out of school early and take him to see his favourite team play. He needs to live like a kid if you want him to really start shedding that cynical layer of his. Everything feels so orchestrated. He's six, and he never, _ever_, takes the time to smell the sea grass." He sat down on a little sand cliff. I sat down next to him, but not too close.

"The city's intensity is sapping the happiness out of all the kids. Their mothers, too."

"What do you know about the moms around here?"

"I hang with the moms a lot, actually. They tell me stuff. They don't really consider me household 'help'. They like to confide in me."

"And what do they say?"

"Once they get past the fact that I'm a male nanny, and find out that I'm actually working on a project for the Ministry, they get really comfortable with me. They talk. They talk about their husbands, how resentful they are that they're never home. I just listen, mostly. But this stupid shit they care about," he cut off with a sigh. "One of them asked me, because 'I'm a man', if it's normal that a contractor wants two hundred thousand galleons to redo their bedroom."

He looked at me intensely, the wind whipping his dishevelled hair around his face. "Aren't you worried about your kids growing up with these families?" His hair blew into his mouth and I sat on my hand to keep from brushing it aside.

"Well, yes, but I try to raise them with good values."

"I know. I do. But you can't counter what they _see_. I took Ines to a play date at the Patels' and the house was being detailed."

"What?"

"Literally, Mrs Patel had a team of people tracing the lines of her windows with those muggle cotton sticks! That's not a normal environment for a play date. Then, the boy's room has fancy sheets and absolutely everything in there is monogrammed with his initials in script. His books are alphabetized, his clothes are colour coded and even his socks are ironed. Who irons their socks?"

"I don't know. We don't," I said defensively.

"For all of you, it's all about maintaining and organizing and planning and scheduling!"

I hated that he was grouping me in with all the whiny playground moms. "I don't have much connection with all those women."

He gave me this _look_. "I notice small things. That's why I'm good at creating these programs." He was really cute when he teased me.

"And what do you notice?"

"Your body language changes. You don't look like yourself around them," he bumped me with his shoulder. "You may be smarter. You may have a career. But you all drink from the same punchbowl. From my perspective anyway." That hurt.

"What do _you_ do around the punchbowl? Go out with your friends? Your girlfriend?"

"What?"

"I'm sick of talking about me. Let's talk about you."

"I don't have a girlfriend... or boyfriend right now," he gave me that same mysterious look. "And if you must know, the real reason I left Surrey was because of a really nasty break-up. And yes, I hang out with my friends in central London. They're a lot cooler than those moms you know." And he jumped up and ran back towards the house.

I yelled at his disappearing back. "Luna isn't like that!" But he was already out of range.

The flight back to London was quiet. I glanced at Harry, and couldn't help asking, "Give me another example of something I do. Something that is inexcusably high society."

He gave me a million-dollar smile and rubbed his jaw. "Okay. I've got it."

"What?" I was actually itching to know.

"Your silk-patterned cushions."

"My what?"

"Your cushions. Every single manor house, mansion, or villa around here has the exact same silk cushions, nine by twelve inches, with those fancy little tassels in their sitting room. Two of them, on either end of the main couch, on top of other expensive cushions.

I felt so exposed.

"Every time you're expecting company, you always make sure to fluff them up so that they stand out even more before you greet your guests. It makes me laugh every time."

He was right. Those goddamn cushions _were_ a symbol. I remember going to Daphne's house a couple months ago, feeling guilty about not spending as much time at home as all of the other "wives", like Daphne, but it just didn't feel natural for me. Those cushions were on her couch. The next day, my own silk cushions arrived from France in a perfect little box wrapped with a thin, black ribbon. The trend soon caught fire.

I hit him in the arm, before gaining speed, wondering what he would say if he knew those cushions had cost me thirty-five hundred galleons.

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Special thanks to fifespice for the many reviews!  
Note: To Ines: Zambini.. Zabini. I've seen it spelt both ways and while I know it's Zabini in the book, frankly, I'm not sure I can live with changing it half-way through. Thanks for letting me know though! _  
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